Today: Phad Thai, and Spicy Garlic Chicken

So for the last month, I’ve been sick, really sick. Sick enough, that I lost a few pounds, which translates into more pull-ups at night and clothes that are a little less tight. As my condition has improved, I have begun eating again—almost instinctively eating for two, which may work for pregnant women, but has not worked for me. 

Saturday, I got my first long ride in since the illness and came home weak and ravenously hungry. Ellie, our second, made lemon poppyseed muffins with icing. I had six. SIX. Then, for date night, Rachael and I went out for Thai. I agreed to Thai, as opposed to something more in keeping with my unimaginative pedestrian tastes, because I was still full from brunch. And then proceeded to eat most of the Phad Thai and Spicy Garlic Chicken, followed by a maple bar and apple-fritter chaser. 

Needless to say (or maybe it is needful), I woke up at 3:00 a.m. on the verge of vomiting. I do not vomit well. It is an ordeal more so for those who are subjected to my moaning and sniveling. I soldiered through and managed to get back in bed in time for Ivy (our youngest) to come in and let me know that she “peed the bed.” 

As disappointing as this may sound, it actually represents a huge step forward for our curl-bedecked blondie. The last two times this happened, she woke up observing she got “very sweaty in bed last night.” Evidently, realizing that sweat is not the same as urine is a difficult lesson for some children. As my mother would say, “it is a sign you’re growing up, love.” I added the “love,” my mother never would have said that. She repeatedly observed that had she named me [insert your favorite mild expletive here] it would have saved her the time. And I digress yet again.

Sunday dawned sunny and cool. And as I clawed my way out of bed, in time to see a flock of geese headed south and bright yellow leaves dropping from the gingko, I was grateful the night was over. I did not eat yesterday. At least, I did not eat until 6:00 p.m. which was an abbreviated affair due to the headache that ensued probably due to the fact I hadn’t had anything to drink after the spicy garlic chicken. And now I feel weak and light-headed again, which makes me want to eat.

And the moral of this story is that sometimes illness becomes cyclical. I got so weak in August and September that my body attempted to compensate last week by overeating. Said over-eating (I still insist it was the Thai, but Rachael’s having none it) got me sick enough that I did not eat until I became weak again. And for breakfast, I consumed plain Greek yogurt and oats, a Lara bar, a fig bar, and . . . the last poppy-seed muffin. The icing is so good.  

Some people never learn.